


Before dawn

by ayam692001



Category: Saint Seiya, 聖闘士星矢: 冥王神話 | Saint Seiya: The Lost Canvas
Genre: Jealousy, Late at Night, M/M, POV First Person, Rage, Voyeurism, Watching Someone Sleep, Wet Dream, reference to Lugonis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 02:21:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13157178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayam692001/pseuds/ayam692001
Summary: Manigoldo's night entertainment delivers more than he bargained for.





	Before dawn

Disclaimer: Saint Seiya is NOT mine and no money is being made out of this!!

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  Most people I know would call me mad for putting my life on the line like this on a daily basis, specially considering how small the reward is. Then again most people I know are either fellow Saints or dead themselves, thus their opinions are of little importance.

  I stand on a far corner, cloaked in shadows, leaning casually against one of the elegantly carved columns of Pisces, performing once more what took little to become a habit. Every night, long after the sun slides down on the horizon, I'll patiently wait for things to calm down in the twelfth temple, after which, minding little about the hour or how inconvenient it might be for my colleagues, I'll climb the staircase all the way up, all the while taming down my cosmos as much as possible. I enter then the sacred place... illegal, hidden. I penetrate it's somber corridors till I reach the room at the far end... I step inside, lean my shoulder against the pillar and cross my arms over my chest... and observe.

  The sound of silk brushing over cotton is usually the one I hear among those cold walls when the grim night befalls them, my only soundtrack... the silk that covers his lean muscles... the offensively plain cotton scrapping it...

  As the light of the moon breaks in through the window the real show begins. His skin seems close to translucent now, I can almost count each vein on his neck, arms, and even on the right shoulder, timidly crawling its way out from under the white strap of fabric. An innocent act, granted, it's a fairly hot night and he was born on the north, no matter the fact that he grew up in Greece, it must be hard to withstand.

  My eyes travel down, already certain of where to lay. I marvel for long moments at his cream-colored thighs as they obliviously rub together in a half-attempt to shift positions. The golden hem of the tunic clings to his damp skin, robing me of the usual view of his manly treasure. I curse in my native tongue against the damn heat when suddenly a soft, satisfied moan joins the ballad of the silence and sheets rustling... so low yet so obvious. Somewhat surprised I force myself to look away for a second. My forearm finds support against the heated marble and my forehead rests against the hard surface. A second moan and I lock my eyes shut, bitting my tongue hard to keep myself from groaning in unison... He moans for the third time, equally low but slightly more urgent, and I turn around violently towards him... my hands crave for a sample of that hot, tender flesh under them... I find myself stepping forward, mesmerized by the expression on his sleeping visage... there's pleasure indeed, even if masked under thick curtains of proper peace... He's an aristocrat alright, keeping decorum even in his sleep.

  The moment my shadow reaches him a sharp intake of air is caught in his tense throat and I'm ready to dive over him as he murmurs in a tone that's quieter then silence.

  “Master...”

  A wrath like none I've ever experienced before burns my insides like acid... an acid called jealousy that makes my Italian blood boil.

  I turn away abruptly, allowing my cosmos to burn to it's fullest, letting it thread dangerously close to the seventh sense, and by the time I'm out of that temple I know he's awaken... I know he knows I've been there, as do all the other Saints in the sanctuary... and I couldn't care less. My furious stomping and cursing echoes down the stairs as I make my way back to my quarters. No one stops me, they let me pass through until I reach my own temple, heaving, blind with rage and with my mind set on destroying half of it. Useless? Maybe... but effective in helping me control my anger! Competing against a dead man, talk about a lost battle.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this about 3-4 years ago, have no idea why I never actually posted it... hope I didn't mess up the POV on this one, I usually write very differently unless I'm writing someone's journal...


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